


The Seed of His Destruction

by JeanieNitro



Series: Keep Me In Line (But Do It Honestly) [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Choking, Consensual Non-Consent, Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Crowley unhinges his jaw, Deepthroating, Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dom/sub, Light Bondage, Naga Crowley (Good Omens), Other, Snakey Wrestling, Sub Crowley (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22904782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanieNitro/pseuds/JeanieNitro
Summary: "Angel," he hisses, his voice echoing strangely around the room, almost as if this were a cavern and not a perfectly ordinary flat."So I see the reports of demonic activity were correct, then," Aziraphale says, staring up at Crowley calmly."And you're here to sssssssstop me?" Crowley hisses, the 's' lingering like a caress."That is my intent, yes," Aziraphale says, keeping his voice perfectly even. "This has gone quite far enough.""What makesssss you think you can?" Crowley asks. "Even angelsss ssshould fear to challenge a demon in its lair. You will find I am no easssy mark."Aziraphale removes his jacket, rolls up his sleeves. "That is of no concern to me. I am a Principality, a soldier of the Lord. No demon has ever bested me." He says it calmly, matter-of-factly, trying to hide the eagerness in his voice. He can't wait to get his hands all over those beautiful scales.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Keep Me In Line (But Do It Honestly) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751206
Comments: 27
Kudos: 346
Collections: MFU Palentine's Day Exchange, Top Aziraphale Recs





	The Seed of His Destruction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lurlur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/gifts).



Crowley's flat is gloomy, somehow darker than usual, despite the early evening sunlight still slanting through his picture windows. Aziraphale shuts the door carefully behind him and immediately feels like an explorer in some long-forgotten cave in some tropical part of the world. The flat is usually slightly humid, both to Crowley's preference and also because of the plants, but now the flat feels dank and oppressive, a faint sheen of moisture already forming on Aziraphale's skin. The shadows are too dark to see into, but they give off a hint of movement, as if something is lurking within them.

Aziraphale hears the faint susurration of scales slipping along the concrete floor. It seems to come from everywhere at once. Then, finally, Crowley looms into view, towering fifteen feet tall, raised up on a massive snake tail. Aziraphale's breath catches in his throat because oh! Crowley is gorgeous. His long red hair flows in ringlets past his shoulders, just like in the garden. His eyes are fully yellow. Scales freckle along his face, pouring down his neck and turning into a veritable flood along his sides, where his human-shaped body fades away completely into that of a large and powerful snake, black with a red underbelly. He is gorgeous.

"Angel," he hisses, his voice echoing strangely around the room, almost as if this were a cavern and not a perfectly ordinary flat. 

"So I see the reports of demonic activity were correct, then," Aziraphale says, staring up at Crowley calmly.

"And you're here to sssssssstop me?" Crowley hisses, the 's' lingering like a caress.

"That is my intent, yes," Aziraphale says, keeping his voice perfectly even. "This has gone quite far enough."

"What makesssss you think you _can_?" Crowley asks. "Thisssss isss my _lair_. Even angelsss ssshould fear to challenge a demon in the height of its power. You will find I am no easssy mark."

Aziraphale removes his jacket, rolls up his sleeves. "That is of no concern to me. I am a Principality, a soldier of the Lord. No demon has ever bested me." He says it calmly, matter-of-factly, trying to hide the eagerness in his voice. He can't wait to get his hands all over those beautiful scales.

The gentle whisper of scales on concrete hasn't stopped since he entered, and Aziraphale thinks nothing of it until his feet are swept out from under him and he falls the the floor with a yelp. Crowley is on him as fast as a striking snake, looping him in coils faster than a blink of even one of his ethereal eyes. Crowley's face is now only inches from Aziraphale's. Crowley opens his mouth unnaturally wide, unhinging his jaw and hissing right into Aziraphale's face. "Sssssstill ssso ssssure _now_ , little angel?" he says, his breath hot. The coils have worked themselves up to Aziraphale's shoulders, and Crowley is squeezing slowly, rhythmically, inexorably tighter.

"Do you really think something as frivolous as this dramatic display is going to unman me? If that's all you think it takes, dear boy, I'm afraid you're quite mistaken," Aziraphale says, completely unruffled.

"I hhhhhhave you at my _mercsssssy_!" Crowley practically hiss-shouts in Aziraphale's face. The coils are tight enough now that Aziraphale can feel his heart struggling to pound; the drumbeat of his blood is heavy in his ears, and the veins in his neck feel thick and almost painful.

"Now now, then, serpent, that's enough of that," he says. Crowley is strong like this, but Aziraphale is stronger and has a few tricks of his own up his sleeve. He rolls sideways and ducks out of the top loop of coils, giving him just enough leverage to get one of his arms out. Crowley hisses and tries to loop him again, but Aziraphale has the advantage and forcefully pries his other arm loose with little effort. Crowley is throwing continuous loops around his legs, serpentine form in constant winding motion, but Aziraphale grabs on with both hands and begins dragging himself up Crowley's body hand over hand like he's climbing a rope, kicking off the attacking coils with his feet. He reaches skin, ribs, and eventually, throat, managing to pin Crowley to the floor by his neck, holding him firmly right up under the jaw. The furious storm of coils falters, then slows, then subsists into weak thrashing and finally to defeated ripples.

"You _will_ be putting a stop to this nonsense. I am prepared to stop you by whatever means necessary." Aziraphale slides off of Crowley's chest and raises himself up onto one knee, loosening the hold slightly, but not letting go. Crowley, predictably, starts thrashing again, trying to escape, those golden yellow eyes glaring at him with feigned malice. Somewhere in the apartment, a lamp knocks over with a crash. Aziraphale presses down, tightens his grip and pushes harder until Crowley chokes again and the thrashing settles. "Now now. Enough of that. Settle. You're clearly not going anywhere, so save us both the trouble, hmm?" 

Crowley closes his eyes and turns his head away in defeat. 

Aziraphale loosens his grip again, and when no more thrashing is forthcoming, lets go of Crowley's neck completely and trails his hand lightly down Crowley's chest. With his other hand, he clicks his fingers and sets the lamp to rights. "Now, I know you _look_ like a big, scary monster, but I don't think you're truly all that bad. So I think I'm going to take a little different tack with you than I would with some other demon."

"What are you talking about, angel?" Crowley hisses, his voice hoarse from the choking. He coughs. "Jusssssst sssssssmite me already."

"I may, a little, if you don't cooperate," Aziraphale says. "But I have other things in mind for you."

"Torture? Sssssseems a little unangelic," Crowley hisses.

"Torture? No no, dear boy, you have it wrong," Aziraphale says calmly, still pressing his hand firmly to Crowley's chest. "My intent is not to cause you pain, but rather to show you just how . . . pleasurable . . . the path of goodness can be. Give you an incentive to change your demonic ways."

Crowley makes a confused noise. Aziraphale switches hands to keep his left hand on Crowley's chest, and turns his attention from Crowley's face to down further along his body, carefully looking along the scales. He runs his right hand down Crowley's smooth, glossy scales, reveling in how nice they feel. Luckily, while they haven't actually done a full scene like this before, he and Crowley _have_ done some lovemaking with Crowley in his more snakey form, so Aziraphale knows what he's looking for and what to do when he finds it. And there, sure enough, is the hidden slit in Crowley's scales. Aziraphale puts the flat of his hand on it and presses firmly but gently, rubbing slow strokes up and down the area.

Crowley shudders and moans, the convulsions rippling all the way down his entire length, where the tip of his tail puts the already-mended lamp in mortal peril again.

“That’s right,” Aziraphale says pleasantly. “I knew you could be good for me.”

At the word “good”, Crowley surges against him, but because Aziraphale was anticipating this, he doesn’t get very far. “No!!” Crowley growls. “I’m not _good_! You can’t make me, angel!” His thrashing has grown violent again, and there are more crashing sounds.

Aziraphale lets his hands glow with the smallest amount of holy light and pushes down, hard. “Enough!” he says, and Crowley whimpers, shudders, and lies still. “Like I said, you look scary, but I don’t think you’re really so evil, after all. I think with a little convincing, you could be persuaded to give up your evil ways. So I’m going to do a little . . . _convincing_ , and if you’re not convinced, I’ll let you go at the end of it, hmmm?” Aziraphale says.

Crowley struggles half-heartedly against Aziraphale’s grip but gives up pretty quickly. “Fine, angel, get it over with so I can go,” he says.

“Oh, there will be no _getting this over with_ ,” Aziraphale says. “I’m going to take my time with you, and with this. I’m going to do it properly. I’m certain you’ll be begging for mercy before I’m through.”

“Oh, certain, are we?” Crowley snarks, but without any real fire.

Aziraphale just hums archly, and produces a length of blessed rope. “I’ll be needing to use my hands for other things than just keeping you under control, so I’m going to tie you down, but don’t worry demon, it shouldn’t hurt. Not much, at any rate,” he says, miracling a large steel ring set into the concrete floor. He quickly ties Crowley’s hands behind his back and to the ring in the floor, turning Crowley back and forth easily as he does so. He knows from past experience that Crowley loves it when Aziraphale manhandles him, and he revels in the way Crowley’s eyes shutter just a little, at what a hard time Crowley is having at pretending he isn’t into it. He isn’t even fighting; he’s let himself go limp.

“There,” Aziraphale says as he finishes. “That should keep you secure, at least.” Crowley takes in a shuddering breath. “Now, where was I? Ah yes. . .” Aziraphale returns his attention to Crowley’s vent. He pushes with the flat of his palm again, stroking firmly up and down on either side of the area. Crowley’s breathing is coming shallow and fast now, little tiny gasps that make Aziraphale thrill with delight.

Before Crowley can get too worked up, however, Aziraphale moves his hands away from his vent and runs them up Crowley’s torso back towards skin. He pauses when he gets to Crowley’s nipples, rubbing firm circles over them with his thumbs. Crowley shudders and twitches some more, the shudders racing down the length of his body to become violent thrashing of his tail. The lamp crashes again.

“That’s quite enough of that,” Aziraphale says firmly. “Control yourself, or I will be forced to restrain you further.”

Crowley shivers again, but doesn’t let the shiver travel past his torso.

“Perfect,” Aziraphale says. “See? I knew you would be good for me.”

“‘M not _good_ ,” Crowley grits out, but he’s too deep under now for it to come off with any real bite.

“Oh, I’m afraid you are,” Aziraphale says. “You’re a rather pathetic excuse for a demon. Hardly evil at all. And you’re only going to get better. What do you think having my angelic seed in you is going to do to you, hmm? I doubt it will make you _worse_.” 

Crowley is thrashing against his bonds again, but despite the thrashing, nothing else in the apartment seems to be in danger of getting smashed.

“Now, time to put that mouth of yours to good use,” Aziraphale says, unbuttoning his pants. He is very, very hard from everything that has happened so far, and it’s a relief to finally get himself free, especially since he’s made himself rather bigger of an effort than he usually fancies. He moves up closer to Crowley’s face. “I saw you unhinge your jaw earlier, so I’m quite certain you’ll be able to take this,” Aziraphale says. He threads his fingers through Crowley's hair and pushes Crowley's head down onto the floor, then lowers himself so his cock is right to Crowley's lips. "Go on then," he says.

Crowley's tongue, long and thin, slithers out of his mouth and wraps around Aziraphale's dick, curling around it like the stripes on a peppermint stick. It feels heavenly, absolutely divine, and Aziraphale lets out a moan of appreciation. "Yes, that's it. Such a sweet thing you are. So eager to please me.” 

Crowley makes a muffled noise of distress, or perhaps protest, but opens his jaw and works his mouth and throat around Aziraphale's cock, clenching and unclenching, sliding onto it gently. It's glorious, the way Crowley’s throat muscles are clenching around him. Aziraphale lets himself just luxuriate in the sensations for several minutes, making Crowley work for it. “I just knew you weren't such a bad demon after all. And here you are, so obedient for me," he coos, loving the blush that brings to Crowley’s cheeks. "So eager," Aziraphale murmurs, unable to help himself. Crowley is so beautiful like this, when he's given himself completely over to whatever Aziraphale wants. And oh, does Aziraphale want. 

Aziraphale can feel himself building up, higher and higher. Finally, his orgasm hits him like a truck and he pulses straight down Crowley’s throat. "Go on then, swallow," Aziraphale says firmly, and admires the way Crowley's throat looks as it bobs. "Very good," Aziraphale says when Crowley has finished. "Let's see what that holiness does for you." He pulls out as his cock softens. 

Crowley groans. Aziraphale pets his hair gently. "You are quite a sweet little thing," he says, completely sincerely. Crowley grimaces. "M not," he croaks. "M a demon. Scary. Hideoussss. . ."

Aziraphale smiles, a little sadly. "Oh my dear, you are absolutely not hideous. You're lovely," he says, bringing his hand down from Crowley's hair to the side of his face, rubbing his thumb across a couple of the scales on Crowley's face. 

"M ssssssssnnake. . ." Crowley hisses, and it comes out more sad than defiant.

"And what a beautiful snake you are," Aziraphale says. He keeps his hand on Crowley's face, stroking down Crowley's flank with the other, petting him gently. His hand wanders back up to Crowley's chest where he stops to play with Crowley's nipples, brushing them, rubbing them, rolling them. Crowley is trembling with pleasure underneath him, making little gasps and tiny whines of arousal.

Aziraphale turns, slides down towards Crowley's vent again, rubbing closer and closer to the entrance. Crowley's whines turn into full-on moans, and involuntary shudders are flowing down into his tail again. Aziraphale slips his thumb up under the scale that covers Crowley's vent, and Crowley keens. In and out, in and out, just barely there, one thumb only. Crowley is getting more and more worked up, his back arching. The noises he's making are positively plaintive. Aziraphale's cock is already fully hard again; he's thankful not to be bound to human constraints like refractory periods if he doesn't want to be. 

"Now demon, tell me what you want," Aziraphale says.

"I want to _come_ ," Crowley says.

"Now now, you only get to come if you're good for me," Aziraphale chides. "So tell me what you want."

"Want to be _good_ ," Crowley grits out. "Please. Please. I'll be good for you. Fill me, fill me with your holiness, please angel."

Aziraphale shudders with the thrill that it gives him to hear those words. "Very well, demon. I will give you what you ask for." He miracles some extra slickness for himself and for Crowley, and slips himself into Crowley's vent. It’s always such a strange sensation, with the hard thinness, almost _sharp_ feeling of Crowley’s scales, but quite a large cavern beyond the initial tightness. (At least, when Crowley’s chosen a cloaca; Aziraphale supposes he’s never tried to fuck Crowley’s vent when it’s full of hemipenes, but he supposes there’s always a next time.) 

Once he’s in, he lays himself down on top of Crowley, wraps his arms around him, and _squeezes_ with all his might. (“Doesn’t that hurt you, Crowley?” he’d asked. “I know I’m, well, quite strong, and I don’t want to actually crush you or anything.” Once Crowley had stopped looking like he’d swallowed his own tongue, he had explained that Aziraphale’s strength was a) kind of the point and b) exceptionally hot, and c) that especially in snake form, the squeezing felt amazing).

“I have you, demon,” he says. It feels kind of like he’s pointing out the obvious here, but he feels like he needs something to keep the scene up. Crowley is breaking apart beneath him, his little breaths and whispy noises turning into heavy panting and unabashed moans. “I’m going to fill you with so much holiness that you’ll never turn to sin again. They’ll never let you back in hell like this.”

“Please,” Crowley wimpers.

“Please what, demon?”

“Please make me good,” he practically whispers. “Make me _yours_. I’ll be good, good for you. Yours. Angel, please—” Crowley’s voice rises to a shriek and he’s shuddering, shuddering, quaking like an earthquake with the force of his orgasm. Aziraphale keeps fucking him through it, using some judicious miracles to keep himself from coming just yet.

“Yes, darling, yes,” Aziraphale hums. “You’re all mine now. My good, obedient demon. My pet.” Aziraphale finally, finally lets himself go, coming in spurt after spurt. (And if he cheats a little to make sure that he comes with enough spend to make sure that Crowley will be _sloshing_ with it, well, that’s his prerogative.) He collapses, sweaty and breathless, against Crowley’s chest. Crowley lets out a soft little hum of contentment while they lay there for a few seconds.

Eventually, though, Aziraphale gets cold, and he knows that Crowley, with his hands still tied beneath him, must be getting uncomfortable, so he peels himself off his lover and kneels up. He rolls Crowley over to the side so he can get to the ring on the floor and starts pulling at the ropes.

“Noooo, it’s so comfy,” Crowley says.

“My dear boy, I am fairly certain that laying on your cold cement floor is _not_ comfy, and lying on it with your hands tied to that ring can’t be either. But I can leave your hands tied, if you like.”

Crowley smiles, which Aziraphale takes as a “yes,” so when he finishes untying him from the floor, he doesn’t bother to undo the wrists and scoops up as much of Crowley’s torso and tail as he can carry, and sets off towards the bedroom, where he deposits Crowley on the bed. The length of Crowley’s tail slithers along the floor behind them. It's so long that the bulk of it is left in the hallway and living room still, even when he finally lays Crowley down on the soft silk sheets. Crowley is dripping cum from his slit. Aziraphale moves to wipe him up, but Crowley shakes his head. 

"Leave it, angel," he says. "I like having you inside me still."

"Well, let me at least do this," Aziraphale says, pressing his hands to Crowley's slit and miracling up an approximation of the "mating plugs" Crowley had left in him on occasion and which he'd later learned were common among snakes. 

Crowley groans luxuriously. "Ooohhhh, angel, that's so good," he says. He wiggles a bit, as if to settle everything inside him. "Now commere and cuddle me, you feathery bastard."

Aziraphale smiles fondly at the nickname and scoots onto the bed, pulling Crowley up so he can put an arm around his demon and pet his hair. "I wasn't too rough with you, dear, was I?" he asks, lazily running his hands through copper curls.

"Not at all," Crowley murmurs, nuzzling into Aziraphale's thigh. "You could do more than that. Get your flaming sword out sometime."

"Not the flaming one!" Aziraphale says, a bit alarmed. "That could do quite significant damage to you."

Crowley sighs. "I know. You know the danger is half the fun for me. Speaking of, you barely even smote me! I distinctly remember asking for more smiting than that."

It was Aziraphale's turn to sigh. "I know, dear, but I always get so nervous with the smiting. I really don't want to damage you, especially since I'm never quite sure how sensitive you are to it in your demonic form." 

"Sounds like an experiment for later, then," Crowley says, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

Aziraphale can't help the matching fond smile. "I suppose. As long as we're careful. But if you do want me to include a sword next time, I suppose I can arrange something. Now that you mention it, you would look quite pretty on your back with a sword pressed under your chin."

Crowley grins a sheepish smile and buries his face in Aziraphale's leg, which means he's found the suggestion to his liking but is too embarrassed to show it. "Sounds good, angel," he mumbles eventually. 

Aziraphale can't help himself and slides down so he can give Crowley a tender kiss. "I love you so much, my dear," he says.

"Love you too, angel," Crowley says, and snuggles into Aziraphale's chest.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * A [Restricted Work] by [spicycarrot (glitterandtrash)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterandtrash/pseuds/spicycarrot) Log in to view. 




End file.
